


Fairy Lights

by RandomSlasher (Randomslasher)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 22:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12419094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomslasher/pseuds/RandomSlasher
Summary: Sometimes, Virgil just needs Patton cuddles.





	Fairy Lights

Sometimes, when things get really bad, Virgil will leave his room at night and tiptoe down the hall toward Patton’s. 

It’s an arrangement they’ve never spoken about aloud. They’ve never had to. Patton understands what Virgil needs and Virgil knows he won’t be judged. 

He’ll push at the door to Patton’s room and it will always open for him. Always. The room on the other side is never completely dark, either; Patton’s ceiling is speckled with tiny fairy lights, like stars, that twinkle faintly on the high vaulted ceiling. 

Patton’s bed is huge, covered with big fluffy blankets and more pillows that could ever reasonably be needed by one person. That’s just part of it, though: everything about Patton is _more_  and _plenty_  and _extra_ , like Patton himself. Everything about him was made to _give._ To _share_. 

Patton always seems to know when to expect Virgil, too. Virgil has yet to figure out how he does it, but he has thus far never failed to be awake, when Virgil peeks in at night, no matter how late it is. 

He is tonight, too, his eyes glittering in the darkness. He is not wearing his glasses, but apparently he can see better than he pretends without them because he smiles when Virgil opens the door. Virgil smiles back, feeling shy warm and just...good. It’s how he usually feels when he walks into Patton’s room, and it’s hard to put more eloquently than that. He feels...good. Safe.  _Wanted._  

Patton doesn’t speak. He does peel back his comforter and pat the open space on the mattress beside him. 

Virgil slips inside the room and closes the door behind him, then pads, barefoot, over to the bed. It’s tall so he has to hoist himself up, which makes him feel a little like a kid crawling into his parents’ bed. Which is not a wholly inaccurate comparison, come to think of it. 

He slides in next to Patton, close but with a little bit of space between them at first. He always needs an invitation for this part--no matter how many times Patton does this for him, Virgil doubts he’ll ever be self-assured enough to be absolutely certain of his welcome--but Patton never fails to offer it to him. He opens his arms, and Virgil immediately melts into them, relaxing for the first time since the nightmare had awakened him in the first place. He breathes in deeply of Patton’s beloved, cherished scent, nuzzling his nose into the flannel of his pajamas (ridiculous, they’re ridiculous, fluffy and soft and pale blue and covered in little white clouds and little yellow moons and Virgil loves loves _loves_  them, just like he loves loves _loves_ Patton, oh God so much) and when he breathes out it shudders a little and maybe a tear or two escapes. 

Another great thing about Patton’s pajamas: they’re super absorbent. 

Patton wraps his arms around him and strokes his hair, fingers finding all the places on Virgil’s scalp that feel so good when they dig in and scratch a little. His other arm loops around Virgil’s back and snugs him in, until they are pressed together chest to knee. Then Patton flicks the blanket back over the pair of them, leaving them cocooned in warmth. 

Patton speaks the first words of the evening, after Virgil’s body stops shaking and his tears run dry. “Better, kiddo?” 

Virgil nods, and burrows in closer. “Yes,” he whispers. 

“You want to sleep in here with me tonight?”   


This offer never fails to come, either, and Virgil is beyond grateful for it. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” A firm, gentle kiss on his brow, a squeeze. “Sleep tight, kiddo. Love you bunches.” 

And Virgil smiles, a few more tears making their escape. “Love you too, Dad.”

* 


End file.
